Little Lion Man
by notabunny
Summary: This is a really artistic work, and information about it is provided in the forward. This fic does use song lyrics from Mumford and Sons, but the manner in which the lyrics are used are as a prompt, not as the true body of the story.
1. Forward

Before I begin I would like to explain the premises of the story and what I did. This is a fic based off of the Mumford and Sons' song Little Lion Man, I used a line or a few lines as a more or less prompt for each chapter, the pieces flow together to tell the full story although each should more or less be able to stand on it's own.

My goal in this work is to portray the brokenness of Olivia and Alex, within the context of a long established relationship, and show them helping each other attempt to overcome the adversity they face, stemming both from their careers and other aspects of their lives. They won't be perfect in their methods of handling these things, as none of us are. This isn't meant to be taken as an idealistic relationship in which both partners are dealing with their respective demons in a healthy manner, nor are they necessarily supporting each other in the best way possible. This is, instead, a realistic view of this relationship, in this context, with these challenges.

This work contains a lot of difficult subject matter, more so than the par-for-the-course stuff that nearly always is seen in SVU fics. There will be discussion of suicidal thoughts and actions, self-harm, PTSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder and likely other stuff along that route (TWs will be placed at the beginning of each chapter to describe what topics are brought up in each chapter and to what degree)

Due to the subject matter of this specific fic I WILL be monitoring reviews, although they are still very much welcomed, and I welcome critiques on my portrayal of self-harm, suicide, PTSD and anything else that comes up. I would like to add that I myself have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and would like this to be taken into account when commenting on my portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety, because certain elements of this story are based upon my own experience, and everyone's experience is different.

Lastly, neither the characters portrayed nor the song lyrics used are of my own creation, they are all property of their respective owners, no copyright infringement intended, and if Dick Wolf taught us anything, it's that you need criminal intent to be guilty of a crime *rim shot* (although, technically, you must intend to do the criminal act, not intend to break the law, but if John Green's crash course on US Copyright Law taught us anything, it's that copyright law is so difficult to understand that I actually can have no idea if what I'm doing qualifies as free use or not.)


	2. Weep for yourself

TW: Brief discussion of self-harm

 ** _Weep for yourself my man, you'll never be what is in your heart_**

"There's always another victim" Olivia cries as we're getting ready for work.

She'd gotten really attached to a little girl who was molested by her bus driver, I came home a month ago, during the middle of the case, to see my detective slitting her wrists, almost deep enough to need stitches. I wanted to take her to some kind of facility, but once she calmed down she told me she'd be okay. She wrapped her wrist while I hid the knives and her gun, still not completely trusting her. My detective has been better since the trial last week. Bastard was convicted on all counts, so her outburst wasn't motivated by a miscarriage of justice, which tended to upset her as much as it did myself.

"Which is why they need your help." I state calmly, placing my hand on her back, sitting next to her on our queen bed.

"How do I help them? Sure I might catch the guy, but that doesn't mean he goes to prison, and even if he does that doesn't undo what's been done to them." She cries.

"Well you're helping the perp's next victim." That's what I always tell myself when I feel like I haven't done anything.

"It's not enough, I- I want to change the stigma, the shame, the culture that perpetuates this."

"Olivia, you're not God. You're doing the best you can, which is a hell of a lot more than most."

"Thank you." She whispers as I wipe her tears from her face and proceed to draw her lips to my own.


	3. Weep Little Lion Man

_**Weep little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start.**_

Later that day I swing by the station to pick up paperwork and avoid Donnelly, when I enter the bullpen I see Olivia looking nostalgically at a picture of herself from when she graduated from the Academy.

"Hey." I sat placing my hand on her shoulder.

"You know, back then I thought I would be able to do it all. I thought nothing on the job could ever get to me." She admits

"Well, when I first got here I thought I'd be governor one day."

We both laugh, knowing since I first joined SVU I used every favor I've had in my life and then some.

After a moment of silence she asks "Why can't I go back to that?"

"I wish I knew."


	4. Rate yourself

TW: Attempted self-harm

 ** _Rate yourself and rake yourself_**

That night when I come home to our apartment I see her standing in the kitchen with a knife on her wrist, vertically.

I snatch it from her hand. Tears run down my face, because I'm confronted with the fact that she's so broken.

"I- I almost-" she sobs as if in disbelief of her own actions.

"I know. You're okay. I'm here. Let's talk about it, okay?" I say, wiping tears from my eyes, and pulling her to my chest while guiding her into our living room.

"What happened?" I ask sitting on our couch

"I- I just lost it. I- don't know."

"I think you do." I pry

"I'm not strong, like everyone thinks, I just broke down. Everyday I see people who just experienced the single worst day of their lives and I don't do what's best for them. I tell them to drag out the experience, relive it in court! How am I any better than my father? We both make people experience go through the closest thing one can get to hell on earth. At least he didn't try to tell his victims that if they didn't go through with it they're partially responsible if the same thing happens to someone else. At least he didn't make his victims live out their shame publicly. At least he didn't call what he did giving out justice! I'm not better than my father, I'm worse!" Her cries begin a storm surge in my eyes, tears spilling over into the floodplain of my cheeks, before breaking past the sea wall of my chin and wetting my blouse.

"Olivia" I enunciate each syllable slowly while still allowing the name to flow, my voice was soft, but about an octave lower than normal, I tried to correct for the shakiness of my voice, I place both hands on her cheeks, that were red hot and as damp as my own, and turn her face towards mine to create intense eye contact as I go on to tell her "You are not your father. You help these people, you give them justice because you give them closure. When you convince victims to do a kit, you do it because you know they'll believe it's their fault if it happens again to someone else if they didn't do all they could to prevent it, and you don't make them relive their assault publicly- I do." My voice is full of passion, my words fall into the same rhythm and dynamic as in the courtroom. My voice does not shake. Not until I admit that I truly am the villain -because there my voice takes the same decrescendo, the same octave and the same scared and unsure vertebrado that it had when I originally spoke her name.

"Oh Alex" She cries, her eyebrows scrunching apologetically "I don't think that about you! I don't know why I can't change my beliefs about myself!"

"Liv, you need to see someone, get help."

"I- I will. I promise."

"When?" I ask, knowing that Olivia won't get around to it.

"Tomorrow, I set up the appointment -last time." Her voice becomes softer.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments until Olivia breaks it.

"Alex?" she whimpers.

"Yes?"

"Will you hold me?" She asks.

"Of course." I answer, wrapping my arms around her.

After a half hour I guide her into our bedroom, we change and go to sleep, it being 9 at this point, and we both have work tomorrow.


	5. Take all the Courage you have

Well, there's attempted lesbian sex, but that doesn't need a trigger warning. I suppose... it might if your a true homophobe, but I also am aware many homophobes jack off to lesbian porn.

 _ **Take all the courage you have left, and waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head.**_

The next morning I wake up to an empty bed, I worry for a moment until I see the light on in the bathroom.

"Liv?" I ask, opening the door to a naked Olivia turning on the shower. "Why are you getting ready? It's only 7, is your appointment that early?"

"No, but work is." She answers, looking at me like an idiot.

"I - after last night I thought you'd be taking a day." I say, caught off guard.

"Well, I'm not. Wanna join me?" Her voice goes from matter of fact to playful and seductive.

"Only if you want me to." I reply, knowing in our line of work sex can be difficult.

She looks into my eyes and says "I always want to with you, counselor."

With that I pull her into the steamy stall and plant my lips upon her in a car steamer kiss. She pulls my left leg around her waist and then my right, placing both her hands on the small of my back, pressing my body onto hers in a manner that requires me to arc my back in order to keep my lips on hers, in a second she pushes against my back, covering her face in my breasts.

She slips a hand from my back to my slit, rubbing against my clit. Her power increases and she places me on the floor of the stall and buries her face in my pussy. I reach a climax and soon after reach down and begin to run my hand across her wet folds.

Unsure if she was warmed up enough for anything more than the side of my hand I ask "Are you ready for more, Livyia?"

"Doing you is the best foreplay a girl could ask for." She says, in a sexy voice.

"Well then" I push her down and begin to eat her out.

Twisting my tongue inside her, then pulling it out and circling her clitoris.

"Stop!" She screams, I immediately emerge from her thighs.

She draws her knees up to cover her breasts squeezing them together tightly.

"Olivia, we need to talk about this." I urge as the water pours over us

"I thought I could handle it." I let out a breath I was unaware I was holding when she responds, proving she isn't disassortative or having a flashback, but it scares me still

"Handle having sex?" I wanted to clarify.

"I- I - we haven't done anything remotely- fun- since- and I didn't want you to leave because I couldn't be intimate with you."

As my curls melt to the water pouring down to our position on the floor I carefully pull her into my lap, pausing momentarily, asking for permission and gaining her unspoken consent from a look in her eyes. Our wet bodies cause a painful amount of friction between us, but I disregard the momentary discomfort and tell her, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the percussion of the water droplets making contact with the floor, "The nature of our jobs makes intimacy on any level difficult, which is part of why we work so well together, we can talk through those issues we have with sex, and overcome them as a team, I do not want to have a partner outside this relationship because no one else can understand my circumstances the way you can. I can go without sex for you, I would be perfectly content if that was the last orgasm I had in my life if it meant you stayed okay, you need not worry about me right now, you have enough on your plate, now, let's finish up, we don't want to be late."

I release her from my grip and realise that the droplets on both our faces are not solely a result of the shower as they are more salty. We both lather up quickly and proceed to get ready parallel to each other, nearly ignoring the other's presence, if I'm being honest I'm hurt that she thought I would betray her over something as trivial as sex, but after the events of the past few months I'm reluctant to tell her this because I don't want to set her off.


	6. Cause it was not your Fault

Cause it was not your fault but mine

We come back that night and I decide to ask

"How was your appointment with Dr. Terry?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She shuts down as she makes dinner, I offered knowing things have been difficult on her and then she said she could handle pasta, and I set the stove on fire last month. Again

"We don't have to talk right now but we do need to talk." I don't want to push too hard but I want to help her get better, even if it means a little pain at first.

"What is it with you." She lashes out.

I take a deep breath knowing that she's being defensive out of a place of hurt and try not to be angry.

"Liv, calm down, please baby, take a deep breath you know we have to talk about it."

"Fine" she huffs "Let's talk about us, let's talk about how you keep treating me like I'm broken." Her volume raises

"Liv" I attempted to lower my own to try to keep this from becoming a fight "You are broken -"

"If you think I'm broken why don't you just leave! Why should you care! I'm just another broken sex crimes detective, just another cliche!" She cuts off.

"I'm not leaving because I'm broken too, this job it takes part if your soul, and you filled it. I am broken, but you healed me, which is why I care, it's why I love you. Please, let me heal you like you healed me. And Livia, baby, you're not a cliche, in this line of work, a broken soul is a good sign. That's what Liz told me when I started here, 'a broken soul is a good sign, Alex, it means you still have one.' I found it so utterly depressing at the time, but now it's easily the second most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life."

She lets out a giggle in between tears and sits on my lap on the couch "Not something you'd embroider on a pillow"

"It most certainly isn't" I agree, crying for the tenth time today, or was it the twelfth, I had locked myself in my office all day, still a mess from the morning and I just let myself cry, I soaked the brief I was working on with my tears, and had to redo my makeup before leaving.

"Wait." she asks again "What's the most beautiful thing you've heard?"

Her tone implies her belief is that I was about to speak in latin, but I tell her the truth "Your voice telling me I love you."

"Now that- that's the most beautiful thing I've heard in my life." She says, smiling softly

"Lex," She murmurs after a few minutes, I look to her "you were right, I was being defensive."

"It's okay." I whisper.


	7. And it was your Heart

TW: Detailed descriptions of Bulimia

 _ **And it was your heart on the line**_

One week later I ask her again, she shuts me out, again.

"Liv, please baby, we need to talk about it." I beg.

"No" she maintains adamantly like a stubborn toddler.

Not wanting to repeat the previous week I stop. We retreat to bed and I can't sleep. My heart plagued by the pain of her not being willing to open up to me, maybe I'm not good enough. In that moment an all too familiar voice that I thankfully hadn't heard from since sophomore year of college creeps back in

O _f course you're not good enough._ He taunts _look how fat you are._

We battle again

Shut up. I tell him, although, not out loud

 _You can't control yourself._

Shut up.

 _How could you ever be enough for her_

Shut up, I'm great just the way I am, she loves me.

 _Really? Why should she?_

Well, I'm smart.

 _But you're fat._

That doesn't matter

 _Yes it does._

No, I'm a grown-up, pretty isn't important anymore

 _Yes it is_.

Well I'm pretty enough.

 _If you were, Liv would be happy._

It's the job that's upsetting her.

 _No, it's not. Go, you don't deserve it, and you certainly don't deserve her._

I won't.

 _Do it_

No.

 _GO!_

I quietly slip out of the bed to punish myself. In the bathroom I take an old toothbrush and walk to the toilet. I ram the plastic rod down my throat, I cough and gag. I try again and a small amount of my dinner comes up

 _Don't quit now, you're so close._

The third try I regurgitate more into the bowl.


	8. I really fucked it up

AN: I was going to abandon this story, and I still might, but here's a chapter. I'm definitely not abandoning Cabot's Secret Hell, even if it takes me awhile to update it,

 **I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear.**

Olivia woke up, she walks into my torture chamber.

"Alex?" She calls and then finds me. "Are you sick?"

 _Lie! Don't tell her how disgusting you are._

"Must of been something I ate."

 _Good, good._

"Then why do you have a toothbrush in your hand."

 _Figure something out if you tell her she'll leave you._

"Um ah" I stutter.

"Lex, you don't need to lie to me."

She's right, I shouldn't lie to her, I love her, even with her scars, she'll love me even with _him_.

"In my last 2 years of high school and my first 2 years of college I was anorexic " I begin to sob again.

"Give me the toothbrush" she commands and grabs the bile covered instrument and tosses it in the trashcan. "Why did you start again."

 _Don't tell her, Alexandra, you're too broken for her. She's broken too she'll leave you._

"Shut up!" I yell, out loud this time

Olivia looks like a kicked puppy, and then I explain "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to him."

"Him?" Her eyebrows twist in confusion

"I- I decided to think of the thoughts as a person. It helped me compartmentalize."

"Okay,"

"This is bad. I know it is."

She looks at me, smiles weakly and says "We'll get through this" and places her hand on mine.


End file.
